(no subject)
Molasses #16. Alias with Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream, Sprinkles and Malt
Story : knights
Rating : PG-13
Timeframe : 1247
Word Count : 2218
Malt Prompt : Bingo : Something Sexy + (molasses) Alias + Liquor + Cherry + An Apple
“Hey, mister.”
Tarek stopped, scanned the dark recesses, squinting and frowning, and did a double take at the source of the call. A girl took a step from the shadows, painted lips pursed, eyes heavily lidded. A scrap of silk, once green, now stained and worn thin, hung from her shoulders, dipping low over her front with little there in the way to impede it, just inordinate portions of young flesh to expose in its wake. Tied to one side, it trailed down her arm, where she hooked the end between her short fingers and gave it a slow, deliberate twirl. She advanced on him, hips swaying widely, as if such a motion could add to their girth.
“You look like you could use a good lay,” she said, her tone thick and forced like a stage act not practiced nearly half enough.
Tarek swallowed a laugh. “What are you?” he said. “Twelve?”
“That…depends.” Her mouth twisted, and one small brow rose sharply. “Do you like twelve?”
He frowned at her a moment, the half naked child grinning in return. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back to the road, wondering what the world was coming to, what with children being sold on the street, and muttering as much to himself.
“I am not,” she said, a sudden, honest force to her voice, and Tarek spun back to face her. She flinched beneath his glare, her newfound resolve abating. The end of the silk found its way before her, pinched and plucked between both hands. “Twelve, I mean,” she amended with the twitch of a hopeful smile. “I am selling myself. If you‘re buying,” she added hastily.
Hand to his temple, he shook his head again. Her smile widening a bit, the girl straightened herself, the silk dipping even lower across her all but nonexistent bosom. “What’s your name?” he asked.
She dropped the tip of her makeshift shirt and squared her small shoulders with a dramatic flick of her head that ruffled her dark hair about them. Then she pressed one little finger to her puckered lips and batted inky lashes at him. “Bubbles.”
Tarek choked on a laugh. “And where, miss Bubbles,” he paused to swallow another, straighten his face, “are your parents?”
Her lips curled back, the coy pout lost to the flash of stark, white teeth. “Nowhere they can do me any harm.”
He sighed. Ask a stupid question… “And just how much,” he folded his arms and cast her barely clad midsection a nod, “do you hope to get for these…services of yours?”
She planted her hand on her hips and thrust both her jaw and her flat chest in the air. “How much have you got?”
Tarek scowled. “That is beside the point.”
She scrunched her face and eyed him up and down. “I imagine you got at least a few silver on you. What do you say to five?”
He dug a hand into his pocket, fished out his coin purse. “Five?” he said, the purse in his palm, uncinching the mouth and letting his fingertips slide among the contents. He pulled out a crown and tossed it her way. She snatched the coin from the air, her jaw falling for a moment before she forced it shut.
“Get yourself a room or some food,” he said, “maybe some proper clothes.” Leaving her to stare at the coin, he turned and continued on his way.
He hauled himself up onto a stool, legs dangling before the bar, and threw out a hand to catch the mug that slid his way. “Don’t know what this world is coming to,” he said. “I thought you chased off all the whores.”
Behind the bar, Jared paused in his collection of the empty tankards to fix him with a scowl. “I did.”
“Well, you’ve got a new one.” He took a sip, lowered the glass, and shook his head. “Younger than ever.” He waved off the man’s protest and took another gulp of his drink. “Not to worry, I paid her off to leave.”
“Oh, did you?”
Tarek nodded, the glass to his lips again. “Rather expensive too.” He propped an elbow on the counter to swirl the glass about. “Greedy little thing.”
“More than you know.”
“Hmm?” He followed the bartender’s gaze and choked, the glass hitting the counter with a thump and a splash, as he spied the girl approaching the bar on the arm of a man.
“You again?”
“What?” she said, and the man pulled the arm on which her hand rested closer and shot him a glare.
Tarek ignored him, focused on the girl. “I just gave you a crown.”
“Thanks,” she said with a flash of her teeth. “Thought it was a nice start for the night.”
The man eased up beside her, jaw set, nostrils flared, taller than Tarek even with the aid of the stool. “You have a problem?”
“I do.” The man lifted his gaze to the figure behind the counter. Jared set the last of the mugs aside, squared his broad shoulders, and gave his knuckles a hearty crack. “I won’t have this going on in my bar.”
Tarek waved the back of a hand his way. “How much did he give you?”
The girl puffed up her nonexistent chest and gave her flat, little nose a sharp turn towards the rafters. “Eight silver.”
“I’ll give you three crowns.” Tarek fished in his pocket. “That should buy you for a week.”
“I won’t have-” Jared started again, but Tarek waved him off once more.
“A week? But-”
While she fumbled, Tarek tossed a coin at the man, who caught it in one thick fist and continued to glare. “Go buy yourself a proper whore.”
“But-”
“Who says I wanna go with you for a week?” She wormed her way off his arm and held a hand out just the same.
Tarek laid the three coins in her palm. “If you don’t like me by morning, you can go.”
She curled her fingers over the coins. “I keep the money?”
“Sure.”
She turned on the man, waving a hand to shoo him as the other deposited the coins into the pocket of her skirt. “What are you waiting for? You heard the man, go find someone else.”
Working the air with his mouth, the man looked from the girl to the barkeep and stuffed fist and coin into his pocket. Without another word, he turned and strode towards the door. Jared shook his head and made his way to other customers. The girl clambered up onto the stool beside Tarek, grabbing at her flimsy top to keep it from falling off completely as she wriggled into place. One small hand shot out across the counter and whisked Tarek’s drink from in front of him
He snatched the glass from her grasp as she raised it towards her lips. “You’re too young for that.”
She brought her hands to twiddle on the bar with a sigh and shot him a smirk. “Too young to drink but old enough to fuck? You’re a strange man.”
“I never said I had any such intentions.”
She shrugged and picked at the low riding top of her shirt, and Tarek swore there must have been magic to keep it in place, given the lack of supporting anatomy. “Your money if you want to waste it.”
“We’ll have to disagree about what constitutes waste.” He finished the drink and lowered the glass to the bar. “Are you hungry?”
Another shrug. “I suppose I could eat.”
“Come.” He slid off of his perch, leaving even the girl taller as she balanced on hers. “I have a room upstairs.”
The lodgings were not the best Tarek had seen, but there was a certain cozy charm to the place. It was the little touches, like the shelf over the bed large enough to house his books, and the placement of the table beneath the window that made all the difference. He opened the door to the anticipated greeting of feline feet scampering past his own. A quick brush of a tail against his leg and the animal was out the door and on its way. Its fellows, curled up on the pillows in a tangle of black and white, both raised their heads to meet their arrival with a sleepy stare.
Her gaze following the first down the hall, the girl scrunched up her face. “What’s with the cats?”
“My friends. Boots. Whiskers.“ He indicated the pair on the bed. “Muffin.“ He waved a hand to the door. The girl let out a laugh that was short and choked as she tried to supress it. “You’ll fit in quite nicely, I suppose,” he added as he crossed to the table. A bowl lay at the center, overflowing with fruit. Scattered grapes and cherries littered the bits of paper strewn around it. “Apple?” He plucked one from the bowl and tossed it her way.
The girl caught the apple in both hands, frowned at it a moment, and took a bite. Her eyes swept over the walls as she chewed. “And the books?”
“Ahh, my traveling collection.” He could not help but smile as he sidled up to the bed and ran a hand over the multicolored array of well-worn spines assembled above. “I would have more, but carrying them is such a hassle, so I take just the barest essentials. The library at home is much more impressive.” The girl had pulled a tome down from the end of the line. She flipped through the pages with one hand as she took another hefty bite of the fruit, her eyes narrowed on the contents. Perhaps there was hope for the child after all. “You like to read?”
She shrugged and snapped the book shut. “Dunno how,” she said around a mouthful of apple. With a frown, she tossed the book on bed. Boots rolled his head to peer at it and flicked his tail, and the girl swiped another from the shelf. She flipped it open with a swing of her wrist and shoved her thumb between the pages. “These are full of pictures anyway.”
“Yes. Sigils.” She lifted her gaze from the pages to frown at him. “Spells,” he said. “The language of magic.”
“You some kind of wizard?”
“You might say that.”
“Right.” The book landed atop the first with a soft thump.
Tarek felt about in his pocket as he made his way back to the table. He procured a stump of charcoal from its depths and laid the tip to the wood. “A demonstration, perhaps?”
The girl watched silently, arms stiffly folded, as he sketched the long familiar lines over the table top. The form complete, he plucked a candle from its holder and set it upright in the center. He took a step back to be sure she could see and laid his hands around the circle’s edge.
With a swift pulse no more forceful than a breath, he activated the sigil. A spark rose on the wick, crackling at the air. Another popped beside it and another. They merged and swayed and took hold of the wick, and the girl’s jaw fell.
“You are some kind of wizard.“ She quickly closed her jaw as his eyes met hers, forcing the look of aloof skepticism back in place. “So, what? You get off buying whores and showing them your little parlor tricks?”
“Actually,” said Tarek, snuffing out the flame, “you would be the first.”
“Well, don’t I feel special.”
“I was not about to leave a child on the street.”
“I’m not a child.” She peered at the smoldering candle amidst the rough, white lines as she edged closer.
“Yes, miss Bubbles.” He returned the candle to its place and gave the dusty table a cursory sweep. “I’m sure you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself.”
“Damn right, I am.” She snatched the candle, turned it over in her hands, gave the bottom a poke and a rub with her thumb. “So how do you do it?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I could teach you.” He gave the table another swipe, the last bits of white dust flying over the edge. “Of course,” he pulled the candle from her grasp and fixed her with a grin, “you would have to give up your glamorous life of being pawed for spare change in favor of honest, perhaps menial work.” Not waiting for an answer, he set it back in the stick and headed for the book shelf.
“You’re kidding.” The girl was close on his heels. “You just lit that thing without a match and you think I’d turn down learning that?”
“First things first, miss Bubbles.” He spun round with a tome in hand, gently depositing it in hers. “You’ll need to learn your letters.”
She scowled at the book, cracked it open and began thumbing through the pages. Her frown deepened as she took in the lines of text. “I didn’t see any letters there.” She jerked a hand at the table. Tarek raised a brow and the girl sighed. “Yeah, alright. Letters.” She closed the book over her thumb. “And it’s Reida.”
Tarek smiled. “Very well, then, miss Reida.”
Story : knights
Rating : PG-13
Timeframe : 1247
Word Count : 2218
Malt Prompt : Bingo : Something Sexy + (molasses) Alias + Liquor + Cherry + An Apple
“Hey, mister.”
Tarek stopped, scanned the dark recesses, squinting and frowning, and did a double take at the source of the call. A girl took a step from the shadows, painted lips pursed, eyes heavily lidded. A scrap of silk, once green, now stained and worn thin, hung from her shoulders, dipping low over her front with little there in the way to impede it, just inordinate portions of young flesh to expose in its wake. Tied to one side, it trailed down her arm, where she hooked the end between her short fingers and gave it a slow, deliberate twirl. She advanced on him, hips swaying widely, as if such a motion could add to their girth.
“You look like you could use a good lay,” she said, her tone thick and forced like a stage act not practiced nearly half enough.
Tarek swallowed a laugh. “What are you?” he said. “Twelve?”
“That…depends.” Her mouth twisted, and one small brow rose sharply. “Do you like twelve?”
He frowned at her a moment, the half naked child grinning in return. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back to the road, wondering what the world was coming to, what with children being sold on the street, and muttering as much to himself.
“I am not,” she said, a sudden, honest force to her voice, and Tarek spun back to face her. She flinched beneath his glare, her newfound resolve abating. The end of the silk found its way before her, pinched and plucked between both hands. “Twelve, I mean,” she amended with the twitch of a hopeful smile. “I am selling myself. If you‘re buying,” she added hastily.
Hand to his temple, he shook his head again. Her smile widening a bit, the girl straightened herself, the silk dipping even lower across her all but nonexistent bosom. “What’s your name?” he asked.
She dropped the tip of her makeshift shirt and squared her small shoulders with a dramatic flick of her head that ruffled her dark hair about them. Then she pressed one little finger to her puckered lips and batted inky lashes at him. “Bubbles.”
Tarek choked on a laugh. “And where, miss Bubbles,” he paused to swallow another, straighten his face, “are your parents?”
Her lips curled back, the coy pout lost to the flash of stark, white teeth. “Nowhere they can do me any harm.”
He sighed. Ask a stupid question… “And just how much,” he folded his arms and cast her barely clad midsection a nod, “do you hope to get for these…services of yours?”
She planted her hand on her hips and thrust both her jaw and her flat chest in the air. “How much have you got?”
Tarek scowled. “That is beside the point.”
She scrunched her face and eyed him up and down. “I imagine you got at least a few silver on you. What do you say to five?”
He dug a hand into his pocket, fished out his coin purse. “Five?” he said, the purse in his palm, uncinching the mouth and letting his fingertips slide among the contents. He pulled out a crown and tossed it her way. She snatched the coin from the air, her jaw falling for a moment before she forced it shut.
“Get yourself a room or some food,” he said, “maybe some proper clothes.” Leaving her to stare at the coin, he turned and continued on his way.
He hauled himself up onto a stool, legs dangling before the bar, and threw out a hand to catch the mug that slid his way. “Don’t know what this world is coming to,” he said. “I thought you chased off all the whores.”
Behind the bar, Jared paused in his collection of the empty tankards to fix him with a scowl. “I did.”
“Well, you’ve got a new one.” He took a sip, lowered the glass, and shook his head. “Younger than ever.” He waved off the man’s protest and took another gulp of his drink. “Not to worry, I paid her off to leave.”
“Oh, did you?”
Tarek nodded, the glass to his lips again. “Rather expensive too.” He propped an elbow on the counter to swirl the glass about. “Greedy little thing.”
“More than you know.”
“Hmm?” He followed the bartender’s gaze and choked, the glass hitting the counter with a thump and a splash, as he spied the girl approaching the bar on the arm of a man.
“You again?”
“What?” she said, and the man pulled the arm on which her hand rested closer and shot him a glare.
Tarek ignored him, focused on the girl. “I just gave you a crown.”
“Thanks,” she said with a flash of her teeth. “Thought it was a nice start for the night.”
The man eased up beside her, jaw set, nostrils flared, taller than Tarek even with the aid of the stool. “You have a problem?”
“I do.” The man lifted his gaze to the figure behind the counter. Jared set the last of the mugs aside, squared his broad shoulders, and gave his knuckles a hearty crack. “I won’t have this going on in my bar.”
Tarek waved the back of a hand his way. “How much did he give you?”
The girl puffed up her nonexistent chest and gave her flat, little nose a sharp turn towards the rafters. “Eight silver.”
“I’ll give you three crowns.” Tarek fished in his pocket. “That should buy you for a week.”
“I won’t have-” Jared started again, but Tarek waved him off once more.
“A week? But-”
While she fumbled, Tarek tossed a coin at the man, who caught it in one thick fist and continued to glare. “Go buy yourself a proper whore.”
“But-”
“Who says I wanna go with you for a week?” She wormed her way off his arm and held a hand out just the same.
Tarek laid the three coins in her palm. “If you don’t like me by morning, you can go.”
She curled her fingers over the coins. “I keep the money?”
“Sure.”
She turned on the man, waving a hand to shoo him as the other deposited the coins into the pocket of her skirt. “What are you waiting for? You heard the man, go find someone else.”
Working the air with his mouth, the man looked from the girl to the barkeep and stuffed fist and coin into his pocket. Without another word, he turned and strode towards the door. Jared shook his head and made his way to other customers. The girl clambered up onto the stool beside Tarek, grabbing at her flimsy top to keep it from falling off completely as she wriggled into place. One small hand shot out across the counter and whisked Tarek’s drink from in front of him
He snatched the glass from her grasp as she raised it towards her lips. “You’re too young for that.”
She brought her hands to twiddle on the bar with a sigh and shot him a smirk. “Too young to drink but old enough to fuck? You’re a strange man.”
“I never said I had any such intentions.”
She shrugged and picked at the low riding top of her shirt, and Tarek swore there must have been magic to keep it in place, given the lack of supporting anatomy. “Your money if you want to waste it.”
“We’ll have to disagree about what constitutes waste.” He finished the drink and lowered the glass to the bar. “Are you hungry?”
Another shrug. “I suppose I could eat.”
“Come.” He slid off of his perch, leaving even the girl taller as she balanced on hers. “I have a room upstairs.”
The lodgings were not the best Tarek had seen, but there was a certain cozy charm to the place. It was the little touches, like the shelf over the bed large enough to house his books, and the placement of the table beneath the window that made all the difference. He opened the door to the anticipated greeting of feline feet scampering past his own. A quick brush of a tail against his leg and the animal was out the door and on its way. Its fellows, curled up on the pillows in a tangle of black and white, both raised their heads to meet their arrival with a sleepy stare.
Her gaze following the first down the hall, the girl scrunched up her face. “What’s with the cats?”
“My friends. Boots. Whiskers.“ He indicated the pair on the bed. “Muffin.“ He waved a hand to the door. The girl let out a laugh that was short and choked as she tried to supress it. “You’ll fit in quite nicely, I suppose,” he added as he crossed to the table. A bowl lay at the center, overflowing with fruit. Scattered grapes and cherries littered the bits of paper strewn around it. “Apple?” He plucked one from the bowl and tossed it her way.
The girl caught the apple in both hands, frowned at it a moment, and took a bite. Her eyes swept over the walls as she chewed. “And the books?”
“Ahh, my traveling collection.” He could not help but smile as he sidled up to the bed and ran a hand over the multicolored array of well-worn spines assembled above. “I would have more, but carrying them is such a hassle, so I take just the barest essentials. The library at home is much more impressive.” The girl had pulled a tome down from the end of the line. She flipped through the pages with one hand as she took another hefty bite of the fruit, her eyes narrowed on the contents. Perhaps there was hope for the child after all. “You like to read?”
She shrugged and snapped the book shut. “Dunno how,” she said around a mouthful of apple. With a frown, she tossed the book on bed. Boots rolled his head to peer at it and flicked his tail, and the girl swiped another from the shelf. She flipped it open with a swing of her wrist and shoved her thumb between the pages. “These are full of pictures anyway.”
“Yes. Sigils.” She lifted her gaze from the pages to frown at him. “Spells,” he said. “The language of magic.”
“You some kind of wizard?”
“You might say that.”
“Right.” The book landed atop the first with a soft thump.
Tarek felt about in his pocket as he made his way back to the table. He procured a stump of charcoal from its depths and laid the tip to the wood. “A demonstration, perhaps?”
The girl watched silently, arms stiffly folded, as he sketched the long familiar lines over the table top. The form complete, he plucked a candle from its holder and set it upright in the center. He took a step back to be sure she could see and laid his hands around the circle’s edge.
With a swift pulse no more forceful than a breath, he activated the sigil. A spark rose on the wick, crackling at the air. Another popped beside it and another. They merged and swayed and took hold of the wick, and the girl’s jaw fell.
“You are some kind of wizard.“ She quickly closed her jaw as his eyes met hers, forcing the look of aloof skepticism back in place. “So, what? You get off buying whores and showing them your little parlor tricks?”
“Actually,” said Tarek, snuffing out the flame, “you would be the first.”
“Well, don’t I feel special.”
“I was not about to leave a child on the street.”
“I’m not a child.” She peered at the smoldering candle amidst the rough, white lines as she edged closer.
“Yes, miss Bubbles.” He returned the candle to its place and gave the dusty table a cursory sweep. “I’m sure you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself.”
“Damn right, I am.” She snatched the candle, turned it over in her hands, gave the bottom a poke and a rub with her thumb. “So how do you do it?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I could teach you.” He gave the table another swipe, the last bits of white dust flying over the edge. “Of course,” he pulled the candle from her grasp and fixed her with a grin, “you would have to give up your glamorous life of being pawed for spare change in favor of honest, perhaps menial work.” Not waiting for an answer, he set it back in the stick and headed for the book shelf.
“You’re kidding.” The girl was close on his heels. “You just lit that thing without a match and you think I’d turn down learning that?”
“First things first, miss Bubbles.” He spun round with a tome in hand, gently depositing it in hers. “You’ll need to learn your letters.”
She scowled at the book, cracked it open and began thumbing through the pages. Her frown deepened as she took in the lines of text. “I didn’t see any letters there.” She jerked a hand at the table. Tarek raised a brow and the girl sighed. “Yeah, alright. Letters.” She closed the book over her thumb. “And it’s Reida.”
Tarek smiled. “Very well, then, miss Reida.”